


Always Time to Learn

by arrowsong



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Dancing, Drinking, Eomer fluff, F/M, Reader Insert, celebrating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:29:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3959284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrowsong/pseuds/arrowsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the Imagine " Imagine Eomer asking you to dance and being embarrassed when you admit you don't know how" at  imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Time to Learn

Music and laughter filled the long halls while the ale, and conversation flowed.  The races of Middle Earth had cause to celebrate tonight.  Once again the enemy was vanquished, and the world knew peace once more.  This great victory did not come without its price however.  There were many a man, and elf who gave their life, out on the field of battle, with nothing but the cold, hard graves of their fallen brethren to keep them company tonight.  

There would be a time to mourn the dead, to honour their sacrifice for the sake of Middle Earth, but not tonight.  Tonight was for the living.  The torches would burn long into the night, as the feasting and dancing carried on in the Golden Hall of Meduseld.

You stood off to the side watching as the hobbit, your friend, Pippin got up on one of the tables, to sing and dance with his friend Merry.  Dancing surrounded you this night, while the hobbits danced on the long wooden table, men and women of all social ranks danced to a lively tune played by a makeshift band of musicians.  Envious of their merriment, you tap your foot to the beat of the lively fiddle, just as heavy male body stumbled, crashing into you, nearly covering you in your wine.  Steadying the man to his feet you recognize him to be your slightly inebriated cousin, Faramir.

“I see you’re enjoying the festivities, cousin,” you tease with an impish smile, and another small sip of wine.  

“What’s not to enjoy,” Faramir chuckled taking another swig of ale.  “Good drink, good music, and,” he looked to you, “good company.”  

As a child you had been close to your cousins; raised in the same house after you were sent to live with your mother's brother, Lord Denethor, following your parents death when you were a babe.  You grew up with your cousins as your only playmates.  Neither Faramir nor Boromir questioned it when you wanted to play rangers and orcs with them instead of playing the helpless princess, or sew with the other ladies.  It was Faramir who gave you your first bow, and taught you how to use it when you turned seven, and it was Boromir who taught you how to wield a sword.  News of his death hit you hard, you felt as though it was not a cousin, but a brother you lost that day.

“God, Boromir would have loved this,” Faramir commented, almost as though he knew you had been thinking of him.  “He should have lived, to be here for this.” He added wistfully before taking another swig.

You place a tender hand on his arm.  “There are many men who should have lived to see this,” you remind him gently.  You were not the only ones to lose a dear one in this war.

Faramir takes your hand and gives it an affectionate squeeze, before draping his arm around you, pulling you in close.  “Surrounded by all this music and laughter, and we find cause to be morose.”

“Must be a family trait,” you pat his broad chest with a smile.

Faramir barked with laughter.  “That must be it,” he agreed distantly.  Suddenly he stood a little straighter, his eyes darting to the other side of the hall.  A breathy sigh escaped from his lips. 

Craning your neck, you see what has suddenly struck your cousin dumb.  “She is lovely, isn’t she?” You ask with a knowing smile when you spy the young Lady dressed in rich blue silks and golden hair.  Recently, Faramir had caught eye of Lady Eowyn, Shield Maiden of Rohan, and was immediately besotted.  Meanwhile her older brother, Eomer, had not passed unnoticed by you.

He was handsome with warm brown eyes that burned like embers, the same long flaxen hair as his sister, tall frame, and the muscular build of a warrior.  You noticed he hovered close by his sister as they mingled with a dark haired man, an elf, dwarf, and a couple hobbits you knew to be friend and kin to Pippin, all celebrating their great victory.

“He is handsome, isn’t he?”  Faramir whispered playfully in your ear, when he caught your gaze lingering a little too long on the horseman.  His voice adopted the same playful note yours had seconds earlier.

“I think you’ve had too many ales,” you scold, pushing him playfully as your cheeks grow enflamed.

“That may be true,” Faramir agreed, “and I intend to have at least three more.”  He swayed where he stood with a dopey smile on his face.  “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t noticed that blush painting your face tonight, sweet cos.  You fancy him.”

Sighing, you saw no point in arguing with Faramir, he was stubborn on the best of days, let alone after he'd had a few to drink.  “Even if I did, he will soon be crowned King of Rohan in his uncle’s stead" you sighed sadly looking away from the Golden warrior.   "He will have princesses, and far nobler women than I, vying for his hand.  What interest could he have in a woman such as myself - the daughter of the Stewards sister? If I marry at all it will be some minor lord, or a fellow ranger. What is the point in indulging in childish fantasies?  He would not notice me.”

The smile fell from Faramir’s face, and he took your hand in his.  “It would be his honour to be worthy enough for your affection, and your hand in marriage would truly be the greatest gift any man could ever wish for.  He would be a fool to think otherwise.  You are easily worth ten princesses, my dear cousin.  You’re beauty alone make the sweetest roses ashamed to bloom in your presence, minstrels could write ballads of your kind eyes, and your prowess with sword and shield is enough to strike fear in the hearts of the bravest men.” He rambled on, listing everything under the sun, trying to put smile on your face.

“I think it’s time for another drink, cos,” you laugh as he carried on.

“Now that is the smartest thing you have said all night,” he smiled.  “And I can see the lady needs another drink,” he spied your empty glass.  “I away!”  Grabbing the empty goblet from your hand, he dashed off before you could argue.

You watch him as he runs, stumbling along the way, to refresh both your cups when he nearly runs over Pippin and Merry.  Gripping your sides, you burst out laughing when you spy him twirling Pippin around on his shoulders, empty glasses already forgotten.  Your cousin's mirth is enough to lighten your heart this evening.  If only every night could be so joyful for the two of you.

“Are you enjoying the festivities, my lady?”  A deep voice rumbled behind you.

Turning back around, still chuckling at your fool cousin’s drunken antics, you notice Lords Aragorn, and Eomer standing before you - both soon to be Kings.  Bowing deeply you acknowledge both of them and their titles.  

“Very much so, my King Aragorn,” you smile trying not to focus too long on Eomer.  “We have great reason to celebrate tonight.”  You add as you feel the weight of Eomer’s gaze on you.  Suddenly you wish Faramir would hurry with the wine, as you find your throat grow increasingly dry, and words turn to ash in your mouth.

“I am sorry for your loss.  Boromir was a good man,” Aragorn offered you his condolences with a heavy hand clasped on yours.  

“Many good men fell, giving their lives to the cause, not just my cousin.” You admit sadly, swallowing hard.  You were not the only one present to lose a loved one in the battle against Sauron’s forces.  But you smile at the King to show your appreciation for his condolences.

“That is true,” Aragorn admitted, “but I knew your cousin, we fought long side one another.  He died to protect the hobbits.  In the brief time I knew him I learned  his heart beat for his family, and for Gondor above all else.  I hope to make him, and your people proud when I become King.”

“Our people,” you correct him with a congenial smile.  “You are every bit a child of Gondor as my cousins and I.”

Aragorn thanked you for your support.  Excusing himself he spied others with whom he wished to converse.  Meanwhile, you lost all track of Farmir, you could only pray he had not gotten himself into trouble.  After scanning the crowds for a sign of your cousin's fair head you realized Eomer lingered by your side, and the two of you stood alone.  You had spoken only a handful of times before tonight, but never anything of substance, purely menial chit chat. 

Both of you were painfully aware that no one had said anything for a good minute when the song changed.  Immediately Eomer’s brow shot up, surprised that he knew the tune, he cast a glance over his shoulder towards the band. “Would you care for a dance my lady?” he asked, turning back to you, stretching forth an open hand.

You wanted to take his hand more than anything.  "I can’t.” You hated saying those three words.  Looking to the ground, avoiding his gaze, you twirled your fingers through your hair.  While the ladies offered to help you pin it in an elaborate up do, you settled for leaving it loose, and around your shoulders as you loathed fussing with it at any time. 

“I promise not to step on your feet,” he said softly taking a step closer to you.  “If that is what worries you.”  He added an awkward little smile that made your heart melt.

“It’s not that,” you explain forcing an awkward smile of your own in turn.  “It’s just that,” you took a deep breath.  You couldn’t believe what you were about to say, you had hoped to avoid such an embarrassment, especially in his presence.  “I'm unable to dance, not just with you, but with any man. I would like to, but I can’t.  I do not know any of the steps.”  Your cheeks erupted in a scorching hot crimson, streaking across your face.  A lady of the Royal courts who could not dance.  The very idea seemed preposterous, and yet it was your truth.

“You never learned?” Eomer asked, surprised by your confession.  At least he did not laugh, unlike so many of the others before him.

“There never seemed to be any time for dancing.” You explained.  “Dark days fell on Gondor long before this war started. The armies of Mordor had been on our door step long before the rest of Middle Earth stood to to notice.  Gondor needed warriors, and healers - not dancers.” 

“So you became a healer?”  He asked, his features relaxed in an easy smile as he leaned his body against the wall, having led you a little further away from the festivities so that the two of you could talk in peace.

“Actually," you correct with a secret smile, "I fought alongside both my cousins for the city of Osgiliath.  Faramir raised me to use a bow, while Boromir taught me how to wield a sword.” 

You missed those days, fighting alongside your cousins.  When Faramir was made Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien the first thing he did was make you his second in command, that had not sat well with his father.  But he stayed firm in his decision, for that you were grateful.  Now that he was Captain of the White Tower, and Steward of Gondor, the title of Captain of the Rangers passed to you.

“You?” Eomer stared at you with an impressed look mixed with surprise. He looked you over once again before smiling to himself having caught your eye.

“What? You think your sister is the only woman to don men’s armour, and fight for what she believes in? For those she loves?  Was she the only one with something to lose in this war?"  You ask raising your brows in amusement.

Eomer made no reply.

“Unfortunately that left very little time for dance lessons,” you exhaled slowly.  

“Well, that is the beauty of being young.”  Eomer looked up at you with those soft round eyes that always took your breath away.  “There is always time to learn."   Grabbing your hand he led you far from the hall, and away from the music. "Come, I shall show you.”

His hand was warmer than you thought, rough, and calloused from years of sword play.  As were yours, from all those  years of archery practice and ranging in the forests. Your heart fluttered slightly beneath your breast and you chided yourself for thinking of how natural it felt - his hand holding yours.

"What? Why would you want to do that?" You laugh as he drags you down the long corridors of the golden hall, further away form the party.

"Because I want to dance with you," Eomer called over his shoulder as he continued leading you through a series of halls and doors until finally you reached the abandoned, open courtyard outside.  

You could still hear the music from inside floating on the night sky. The air was cool, and soft against the flush of your skin.  You travelled only a small distance, and yet it were although you were in a different world.  Suddenly you were far away from the laughter and drinking going on inside, all there was were the stars up above, music, and the two of you.

"Why are we out here?" You asked looking around.  You were painfully aware of  how completely alone the two of you were. 

“A lady must always have her dignity,” he explained.  "Out here there is no one to watch, or judge should you stumble.” He gave you a small twirl, catching you in his arms.  Instinctively he placed a large, warm hand on the small of your back, pulling your body painfully close to his, while the other hand refused to let go of your hand.

"Just follow my lead," he assured you as his feet slowly began to move in time to the music.  

You tried to follow his movements, eyes trained on your feet as you try to match his steps.  You felt awkward and gangly in his arms, and his feet moved so fast that you were sure you would never be able to follow.

“You must keep your eyes on me,” Eomer instructed in a gentle tone.  “You have nothing to worry about.  I will not let you fall.”

After another minute of awkward stumbling about, and stepping on his feet more than twice, not that he commented or complained once, the movements slowly become familiar.  The two of you began to move in a fluid motion from one step to the next.  You still made a few mistakes, but every time you though you might slip Eomer held you even closer.  The warmth of his smile radiated off his skin, chasing away any cold you thought you might have felt.

You keep in time to the beat of the music.  Even when the song changes, Eomer doesn’t let go, but shows you an additional step to try in your constantly growing repertoire.  Out in the pale moonlight, under a blanket of stars the two of you continue dancing, alone, and without care.

You tried to recall the last time you felt so light, and happy.  Surely, it must have been before Boromir left for Rivendell - the last time the three of you were united, before your Lord uncle sent him away to the council meeting, and subsequently to his death.

Eomer spun you one last time, at a rate far quicker than you anticipated, and you began stumbling over your clumsy feet.  Realizing his error, Eomer caught you by the arm.  Pulling you in close, both of his arms clapped around you in a tender embrace, relieved that he caught you before you fell.

You drew shallow, ragged breaths as you looked up at him.  You were so close, you could hear his heart hammer in his chest.  His soft brown eyes met yours, as he scanned for any signs of distress.

“I’m certain the people are starting to miss your presence inside.” The words stumble awkwardly out of your mouth as you attempt to mask your discomfort when you realize just how close he is holding you and your skin is set afire with by the burn of his gaze on you. "Surely several other maidens, more skilled than I, are patiently awaiting a dance with your lordship."   _He is to be King and you are a lowly ranger_ you remind yourself with a gulp.  Kings do not marry rangers.

“I'm sure you're right," he agreed with a solemn glance back towards the great hall, heart heavy with the thought.  "But I’d rather stay here with you,” he adds pulling you in close to his body, never taking his hand from yours.   His breath warm on your neck, sends an involuntary shudder down your spine.  Heart pounding inside your chest you meet his intense gaze with your own.  Brushing stray strands of hair from your face with one hand, he continues to hold your waist firmly against him before his lips reach down, capturing yours in a kiss.

"My lord," you gasp once his lips part from yours, leaving them painfully abandoned.  

"I have wondered for far too long how that might feel," he confessed tenderly, a quality you did not expect from a warrior with such a fierce reputation.  "Too few times does reality surpass fantasy, mercifully this has been one of those times."

"Why me?" is all you are able to whisper.  You kick yourself for questioning your good fortunes, but a life time of hardship has taught you to be wary of anything too good to be true.  It was after all what ultimately led to your beloved cousin's downfall.

"From the moment we met I knew you were the one, the woman I wished to dance all my dances with, should I be so fortunate to find an opportunity," admitted Eomer, taking your hand once more in his before resting against his chest so you may feel the rapid way in which his heart beat beneath his tunic.  "In all my life only you have ever had such an effect. I would never have presumed to be so bold with my affections had I not spoken with your cousin early this evening."

Your face blanched at the mention of Faramir.  What had that fool cousin of yours said now to the King?  Did he tell Eomer of your feelings for him?  Gods save Faramir if he did - he would not live to see morning.

"He spoke so fondly of you, of your grace, your wit, and your beauty to any and all who would listen," chuckled Eomer.  "Were I not aware of his affections for my sister I might think it might be you he desired.  I knew that I must be bold for fear of losing your attentions to another."   

You cut him off by reaching up and pulling him in for another fiery kiss, having become quite addicted by the first.  Surprised by your daring, Eomer wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to his body, simultaneously deepening the kiss.  Smiling you stepped back so you may look up at his amused, mildly startled expression once the kiss ended.  "You believe only men to be capable of such boldness?" you tease with a smirk.

The deep rumble of his chuckle brought an impish smile to your face as he cupped you face in his hands.  "It tis an error I shall not make again," he promised, bringing you in close to his chest so you may share his warmth against the night chill now cooling your skin.  

Eventually the two of you rejoined the merriment in the grand hall, though the candles had burned considerably lower than when you left.  Most people had substituted dancing for sitting at the long tables, listening to tales of heroic deeds and gallant acts on and off the battlefield.  Immediately you caught eye of Faramir, leaning against the far wall of the great hall.  He was deep in conversation with Lady Eowyn, both of whom stopped upon noticing your return.  He gave you a small nod, and a knowing grin when he caught sight of Eomer's hand clasped firmly over yours - where it remained for the duration of the celebrations, and the many years to follow that fateful night.


End file.
